


The New War Begins

by AliceMarylin1999



Series: World War II Ineffable Romance [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), M/M, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-23 14:56:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20341996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceMarylin1999/pseuds/AliceMarylin1999
Summary: It is September 1945 and Aziraphale is back in London, and he has to face his feelings for Crowley and the fact that they both will be closely watched now that the war is over. Aziraphale decides to hide his feelings, but that struggle seems to be more hard than he could ever imagine...





	The New War Begins

It was chilly outside – not a usual thing for early September in London. Or maybe it was just the way Aziraphale felt. He stopped eating for a long while – not that there was much to eat in Europe these days, but also because he didn’t want to.   
When Aziraphale came back to London from the continent he soon found out that there was a vacant room just above his bookshop, so he started living there. He was all alone most of the days, either going through the books or simply staring out of window. The war was officially over – it ended on the next day of its 6th anniversary, but the joy of that happening felt bitter and foul in his mouth. he thought of the nuclear bombing of Japan, the wiping out of two cities with countless innocent people, those whom no angel could’ve reached on that horrible day. It felt even more grotesque to know it was done by ones of “their own”, the ones who were supposed to be the good ones.

_“I told you we’d win!”_, he remembered Crowley shouting. But did they? Did they, truly?   
Yet despite all that mess of feelings around him – the joy of victory, the horror of Hiroshima, the fear of an upcoming age of nuclear destruction, all the talk of a future collapse between Soviets and Americans, everyone’s thrill about the open trial for remaining Nazis – Aziraphale couldn’t keep his thoughts on any of those things for more than mere minutes. He thought he’d never forget the things he saw in Poland, and yet they no longer haunted his mind.   
There was no place for anything apart from _him _. The one that has always been somewhere close, and yet so distant for the last five months. Or was he? They used to meet once in a decade, and Aziraphale didn’t seem to notice. And now there’s been five months, five tiny months - and he was restless.   
Whenever Aziraphale closed his eyes, the same picture was always there – Crowley, smiling at him, covered in dust and dirt, his red hair shining brighter that the sun.   
_“And now there is no sun”. _  
The bliss from meeting him among the ruins of Berlin soon wore out. The war was over – that meant they both will be watched once again. He almost told Crowley he loved him the night he was leaving London, in 1941, and now he bitterly regretted he didn’t. He didn’t know if he would’ve seen him again, and, perhaps, in the hellfire of war, they could’ve been together, at least for four years, if only he told him.   
_“And if he could ever love me back”. _  
It was too late now. They were enemies again, closely watched, and living in the same city. It was one thing to battle momentary attraction or infatuation – there were times before, when they looked each other in the eyes for to long, or their hands occasionally touched, or he felt a desire to stroke Crowley’s curly hair, all of a sudden – and another thing to deal with love, deep and painful and desperate. He didn’t know how to look at him now, or how to speak to him. Hell, he didn’t even know how to look at himself.   
And just when he was thinking about it, leaning wearily on a bookshelf, the door opened.   
\- Hello, angel.   
To be perfectly honest, nothing about Crowley was extraordinary that moment. He was a very usual Crowley – black clothes, ginger hair (grown a bit long, almost touching his shoulders), dark eyeglasses, long fingers, aquiline nose. It was the same Crowley that had been around for almost 6000 years now, but it was the love for him that was unusual.   
“How could I ever look at anything but him? But I should now. He’ll make me blind if I don’t look away”   
Aziraphale quickly turned back to a bookshelf, like he didn’t hear Crowley coming.   
\- Hello, Crowley. Nice to see you. – he murmured.   
\- Nice to see you? That’s all?! You were crying on my shoulder last time I saw you, angel, and that’s what I get now? – Crowley said jokingly, although sounding a little hurt.   
“_I shouldn’t be such an idiot_”. Aziraphale made himself look at Crowley and smile politely.   
\- I’m sorry, dear. I’ve been a bit absent-minded lately. It’s really a pleasure…   
Crowley didn’t let him finish, he grabbed him by his arm and lead him outside.   
\- I’m in a very, very good spirit today. – Crowley was grinning happily. - We’re going to St. James to feed ducks. Oh, I haven’t seen a single duck in years! I hope there’re still ducks there, are there?   
\- I don’t know, I haven’t been there. – Aziraphale could barely speak, feeling enormous tension from Crowley’s touch. The demon didn’t seem to mind, he let go of his arm, but put his own arm on Aziraphale’s shoulder instead.   
\- Where have you been, then? What have you been doing?   
\- I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to be so… - Aziraphale gently put Crowley’s arm down. – So open about our friendship. It’s risky. For both of us.   
Crowley seemed relaxed and carefree. He put his hands in his pockets and continued smiling happily.   
\- As you wish, angel. But after I’m done with ducks, I’m gonna take you to an Italian restaurant I’ve recently found, and then I’m gonna feed YOU. And I, myself, am going to drink quite a royal share of booze.   
They walked around St. James Park, strolled down the alleys, fed the ducks, but nothing was the same. “_Nothing can ever be the same_”, Aziraphale thought grimly. He heard himself speaking, and bitterly realized that he was reserved, cold, and borderline rude with Crowley, in attempt to hide his true feelings.   
Then, when they were walking up the hill from the pond, Aziraphale stumbled on a little rock, and fell down. Crowley leaned over and helped him up – before he even realized that, Aziraphale found himself in Crowley’s arms: his friend was holding his arm in one hand and shaking dirt off his jacket with his other hand. Such an innocent friendly gesture, and yet his heart was beating in his throat as he felt it.   
\- What are you doing?!! You can’t touch me like that! – he heard himself yelling.   
\- What the Hell is wrong with you, Aziraphale? You fell down like an oaf you are, I helped you up – what’s all that? – Crowley seemed genuinely surprised by Aziraphale’s overreaction.   
\- No one can see us like that! You can’t do this in public, there are too many eyes here!   
\- Aaah, fine, I won’t touch you. Next time you fall, you roll down into that pond, I’m gonna stand here and watch. The ducks might as well eat you down there, and I won’t lift a finger, angel. – Crowley wasn’t looking hurt, he seemed to be rather amused by Aziraphale’s hysterics.   
\- How can you still be so jolly? - he blurted all of a sudden. - How can you laugh after all you’ve seen – you told me you were on Eastern front… Things I’ve heard, the deepest abyss of Hell couldn’t match…   
\- You WERE NOT in the deepest abyss of Hell, angel, for a start. – Crowley’s face darkened, and Aziraphale immediately regretted what he said. - And there was more than butchery and cruelty. I saw different things. A woman sharing a loaf of bread with a Vermacht prisoner – her village was burned down, everyone slaughtered, and still, “He’s just a boy”, she said, “Looks like my son”, she said. In Berlin, I saw a soldier, probably from Red Army, risking his life to save a little girl – a German girl. Your God believes in eye for an eye, angel. You screwed up – you get punished, no second chances. Remember that great flood, we met there? Humans are different, more forgiving, more merciful. I’ve seen more kindness and mercy in them than your lot could ever know.   
\- It used to be your lot too, Crowley.   
Oh, how sweet would it be if he could become one of his own again… He could’ve told him he loved him.   
\- So what? There IS NO way back above! – Crowley’s voice became louder and harsher. - I can’t un-fall. Why do you keep bugging me about that, anyway? “We both started as angels”, “fraternizing”, “temptation is your job” – wake up, Aziraphale, I am a demon! That’s never, ever going to change, and YOU are a demon’s friend weather you like it or not. It’s been quite a while already, so you better get over it!  
Oh, and now he made him angry.   
\- Besides, you didn’t seem to mind all that stuff at all, back in Berlin. You were all over me, crying from happiness or whatever it was, and now that I’m not dressed like a scarecrow anymore and there are no Russian tanks by my side, you go all angels-uber-alles on me? What the Hell is going on?   
_“I’m in love with you and I have no idea what to do with that – that’s what’s going on”. _  
\- I’m sorry. I’m sorry, please… I haven’t been myself lately. I’m really sorry, it’s just those things I’ve seen, I can’t get them out… It seems unfair that I’ll be enjoying all this when all those people have died horribly.   
Crowley’s face softened again. “_Oh, he’s so good inside. Twist of fate and God’s sick humor – to make such a kind one a demon”._   
\- I get it, angel, but there’s no point in torturing yourself. All those people are at peace now – you know that, do you? And I can assure you that all those bastards who caused this mess are in Hell now. I hope you’ll trust me on that one, will you? There will be good things now, you’ll see. And, speaking of good things – how about that lunch I proposed?   
\- Are you tempting me? – Aziraphale forced himself to smile.   
\- No, idiot, I’m telling you – you’re going with me.   
Crowley didn’t eat, as usual. He was drinking wine, and then whiskey, as Aziraphale forces himself to eat tiramisu. After all, it was Crowley who ordered it to make him happy, and he couldn’t refuse him. Still, food didn’t taste the way it did before. He himself refused to drink, fearing it would be almost impossible to control his emotions if he didn’t.   
\- Ahh, I loved that. – Crowley exclaimed happily, as they left the restaurant and stood by the streetlight. – I love being back. I love seeing London alive. And you?   
_And I love you_, Aziraphale thought miserably.   
\- It was a very nice evening, Crowley. You seem quite drunk, though. Mind if I walked you home?   
Crowley burst into laughter.   
\- How many times you need to hear that? I’M A DEMON, not some private school boy. There’s literally nothing that can happen to me, lest there are holy water dispensers down the road. Night, angel. – Crowley blew him a kiss – I’ll see you around.

People were drinking and laughing all over London. Aziraphale walked among them till the dawn, and then, exhausted and beaten, came back to his bookshop. There was a war against the Nazis, and it was won. There was going to be a war against Heaven and Hell, and it had yet to get started. And there was another war, deep inside his heart – a war against himself. And he felt he had been defeated before it even started. 


End file.
